


Honey, I'm Home

by LadyAJ_13



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky cooks, Domestic, Gen, I always make Bucky work in a coffee shop, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:06:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4427786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAJ_13/pseuds/LadyAJ_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its almost a year to the day after the Potomac when he shows up on Steve's doorstep in Brooklyn, more Bucky than not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honey, I'm Home

Its almost a year to the day after the Potomac when he shows up on Steve's doorstep in Brooklyn, more Bucky than not.

“Hi Steve.”

“Hi.”

Steve lets him in, of course. He 'forgets' to mention it to anyone for over a week, so Bucky tracks Steve to work, submits himself to the psychiatric tests, and gets a passing grade. They walk home together.

–

He doesn't join SHIELD; or what has replaced it and turns out to be pretty much the same, except smaller. Bucky doesn't want to fight and Steve doesn't want him in a system that issues orders. He's still recovering anyway, not to mention catching up on everything he missed over the last seventy years.

–

Steve has been away for a week; the longest he's left Bucky – well, ever. Bucky was the one who left him - for the war, by falling, by dragging him out of the river and walking away.

But he trusts Bucky. He has to – has to believe that Bucky will be there when he comes home. And its not like he hasn't been alone before, he has.

He's there, and Steve breathes for the first time in too long. Surprisingly, there's no mess. The old Bucky couldn't exist without creating clutter, even when they had next to nothing. But the flat is spotless and there's a lasagne in the oven.

“Here you go; I bet SHIELD rations are terrible.” Bucky serves him a double portion with a side of salad and watches him hoover it down.

“Its not SHIELD.” Steve grabs a slice of the home-made garlic bread.

“But its not called anything else.”

Steve shrugs, and gives him that one. The rations probably are leftovers from then anyway. “You know,” Steve gestures at the apartment, the meal in front of him. “I'm not complaining, but if you're bored, we could find you a job.”

Bucky is silent for a while, just mops up some leftover sauce with the last piece of bread. “Do you think I should?”

“Whatever you want, Buck,” Steve says earnestly. “But if you're getting cabin fever I can help you look.”

–

Somehow, when Captain America is the one handing over your newly crafted CV, you have your pick of jobs.

–

He ends up working in a coffee shop. It's not a chain, just an out of the way local with a steady crew of regulars and the occasional tourist. Bucky socialises with different people, gives half his monthly pay check to Steve as rent and comes home at the end of each day smelling like dark roast.

Steve chuckles at his phone. He's been away again; three days this time, but with only ten minutes here and there for sleep. The rest of the team are sacked out as their plane comes in to land, but Bucky has been texting him throughout his shift and Steve doesn't want to miss anything.

The plane jolts as the wheels hit tarmac. All around him people groan and stretch. He taps out a quick message: _Got to debrief. See you at home – bring me one of those cinnamon rolls?_ And the answer comes immediately. _Sure thing Steve-o._

–

It's just under two hours later that he stumbles through the front door. All he can think is food, shower, bed.

And there on the table is a bowl of mac and cheese, broccoli piled on the side, and a cinnamon roll.

“Buck?” he calls, scooping up the bowl. It's still hot.

“Through here!”

He wanders into the sitting room, taking a big bite and realising this isn't the packet stuff; this is the real deal, crispy melted cheese on the top and bits of bacon stirred through. He takes another bite and falls down next to Bucky on the sofa. He's watching _A Place in the Sun,_ which Steve has no interest in.

And that's when he realises. All the crap he left everywhere in his rush to leave is gone; tidied away. He leans forward, under the guise of stealing a swig of Bucky's beer, and yep – that table is completely clear of dust. He sighs.

“I'm sorry Buck.” He feels terrible. It had been his turn to clean the apartment – they even have a makeshift rota stuck to the fridge – but he'd put it off for this and that, and then been called away, and now Bucky had felt he had to do it. At Bucky's questioning look, he clarifies. “The cleaning. I should have done it.”

“Oh, I don't mind.”

“No, it was my turn-” It's not like Bucky does nothing, after all. Steve may have been away on a mission but Bucky's been working double shifts this week and he still has to look after the apartment and cook home-made meals -

“Steve,” Bucky lays a hand on his arm. “It's cool, I don't mind.”

Steve lets it drop for now.

–

He tries extra hard to be good over the next few weeks. He picks up after himself and does his share of the cooking. But still, every time he turns around, he realises Bucky has just beaten him to the washing up again. So he grabs a dishcloth and dries, even though Bucky says he read online it was better to leave things to air dry. More hygienic.

“Steve, go sit down.” Bucky gently plucks the cloth from his hands and hangs it up, before plunging back into the water.

Steve just stands, hands empty, before wandering over to the living room. Then he stands there. He's plumping the cushions when Bucky wanders in.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks, as he takes a running leap at the sofa and undoes all of Steve's hard work. He passes Steve the remote. “Pick something good.” Steve scrolls through the listings until he finds that police sitcom that makes Bucky laugh.

–

Steve gets back from his morning run and heads straight for the shower. He hears the door close just as he starts the water; Bucky heading out for the early shift. He takes his time, happily aware no one is waiting for the bathroom, and wanders into the kitchen in his towel to grab some food.

There is a chopped fruit salad on the side, coffee in the pot and a wrapped sandwich with a post it stuck to it: “Lunch! :)” it declares happily.

Steve eats the fruit salad even through it tastes like guilt in his mouth. He follows it with two cups of coffee and a stack of toast, then heads out the door. At the last minute, he scoops up the sandwich.

–

Bucky is already home when he gets in, which isn't surprising as his shift ended several hours ago. Sometimes he takes off to see the sights or visit museums but most days he heads straight home. There's a pot of stew bubbling on the stove and this has got to stop.

“Bucky,” he starts.

“Sit down,” Bucky bustles around him, laying knives and forks on the table and then vigorously attacking the potatoes with a masher.

“No,” he says quietly, remaining standing, and eventually Bucky stops, even if he continues to hold the masher in one hand. There are chunks of potato clung to it, threatening to drop onto the floor.

“Steve?”

Now that the moment's here, he's not sure how to start. So he just goes for it. “You have to stop – all this!” He waves one hand around, indicating the table, the hob were the pot of stew still sits, the spotless living room. Bucky's even been washing up as he cooked, Steve realises, as his gaze falls on the shiny glassware in the drainer.

It's clear his meaning is lost on Bucky though. “All what...?” he asks warily.

“The cooking, the cleaning,” he tries to explain. “You don't have to pay me back for being here, or whatever this is.”

“Its not that.” Bucky is looking at the masher rather than Steve, and spins to place it back in the pot. He keeps his back to him, though, fussing with the lid of the stew.

“Aren't you tired?” Steve tries a new tack. “You're working all day, then spending all your free time looking after me-”

“That's what I've always done.” It's the truth, and it stops Steve for a minute. He'd tried, back when they were younger, to do his bit, but work always tired him out and the most he could manage when he got home was boiling up a pot of soup. And then only on good days. Bucky had been the one to cook properly. Bucky had been the one to keep their two-room apartment clean, dusting around his clutter until Steve sniped at him to just put it away already, God Buck. Despite Bucky working longer hours, at a physical job lugging crates down on the docks.

“You don't have to any more,” Steve says, gently. “I can look after myself, and I can handle my share-”

“It's not-” Bucky interrupts, but then stops himself. He looks at Steve for the first time in a long while, though. “I know you can take care of yourself. But you won't ever have to. Not when I'm,” he mimics Steve's gesture from earlier, “around.”

“Oh.” Steve doesn't really know what to say to that. “It makes me feel guilty,” he blurts out after half a second's though; his other point.

“Guilty?”

“That you do everything for me and I do nothing for you.”

“It's not a competition.”

“I know, I just... I want to look after you too.”

Bucky looks down, shakes his head, but he's smiling when he looks up again. “You saved me from HYDRA,” he remind him gently. “But you've done so much more than that as well. Every day, you keep me here.”

He doesn't explain, but Steve knows he doesn’t mean 'here in this house'. He means here in this century, here in this world, here as Bucky, not anything or anyone else. He knows, because its the same way he feels. “You keep me here,” he echoes, and Bucky's smile turns softer.

“So, how about we eat this meal before it goes cold?” Steve nods, and helps him load up bowls and carry drinks through to the living room after they both looked at the set table and then realised it was Friday, and that meant a new episode of Brooklyn Nine Nine. They sit close on the couch, Bucky's bare feet tucked under Steve's legs to keep them warm. The potatoes are cold, but they shovel them down anyway.

Afterwards, Bucky washes while Steve dries.

**Author's Note:**

> I've made myself hungry writing this, and have next to no food in. Bad times.


End file.
